not even here.” Benhu watched as the man wiped himself down, using his jacket as though the expensive garment were a rag.
“I met more than one lord, Benhu.”
Benhu felt like a veldt mouse frozen in the gaze of an Adda.
“Say his name,” Quinn said.
Poor as a beggar, and yet Titus Quinn was presuming to give orders. Benhu decided to overlook his tone for the sake of what the man had just been through.
“Say his name,” Quinn repeated.
“The gracious Lord Oventroe.” By a beku’s balls, Benhu thought. This pathetic man of the Rose, dripping with goo, daring to give orders, acting like a mighty legate when he was only a suppliant. Benhu stood up tall. “Fifty days I’ve waited in this stinking place, at my lord’s will and to your great advantage. Fifty days of dried food with vermin for company, and candles for daylight.
“The result being,” he went on, “you are here unscathed instead of burned or blown to pulp.” He couldn’t help but smirk. “You think you can cross without dying in the dark? Quite wrong. The only thing that saved you was that I drew you in.” He jerked his head at the crevice. “She almost died, too. Still might.”
Quinn looked at Benhu with an unnerving sideways glance.
“Yes, she lives, don’t worry. Burned, though.” He pointed at the figure lying in the shadows on the floor.
Lurching to his feet, Quinn strode to the woman’s side. He could surely see that Benhu had taken care of her: a blanket, and laid out comfortably. It was all he’d had time for, but the man seemed enraged.
Quinn stalked back to him and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “A bad mistake, Benhu. Send her back.”
Benhu was aghast. “Back? Send back? The lord said nothing about—”
Quinn yanked Benhu around to face the veil-of-worlds. “Put her in there and do what you do. Now.” Shoving Benhu away, Quinn rushed to the unconscious woman and began dragging her to the veil.
“No,” Benhu said, running to prevent him. “You can’t do that. Put her down.” He pulled on the woman’s arm, slapping at Quinn. A nasty blow sent Benhu sprawling as Quinn continued to haul the woman toward the veil.
Benhu crouched against the wall, rubbing his sore shoulder. “Go ahead and kill her then. I have no part in this.”
During the dragging, the blanket had come off the still-unconscious woman, and now Quinn saw her wounds. He paused, breathing heavily from his exertions and the stress of the crossing.
He whispered, “Why can’t you send her back?”
Benhu thought his dignity better served by standing up. He did so, rising to his full height, considerably less than Titus Quinn’s. “First, because in her condition, she wouldn’t survive a crossing. And second, because the gracious lord gave me no instructions as to the particulars of reverse passage. In other words, I don’t know how.”
Quinn fixed him with an awful stare. “Any more than a beku can pilot the Nigh?”
Benhu straightened his clothes. That was a foul thing to say. “I should have let you suffocate in that stinking jelly. Ever watch a man suffocate?”
“Yes.”
Indeed, Quinn looked like a man who didn’t care when or how he died. Those kind were the most dangerous. And though he would sooner have kissed a Gond, Benhu was now stuck with him. He put on his most superior demeanor. “I will await your apology outside.”
Quinn growled, “What am I supposed to do with her ?”
“I don’t know or care. She’s yours now.”
Benhu walked out of the chamber, eager to exit the chamber in case Quinn dispatched the unfortunate woman with his knife. Whoever she was, she appeared to be about as welcome as a horde of gnats on a beku’s arse.
CHAPTER SIX
O divine art of subtlety and secrecy! Through you we learn to be invisible, through you inaudible, and hence we can hold the enemy’s fate in our hands.
—from Tun Mu’s Annals of War
B EHIND JOHANNA LOOMED THE STORM WALL. She made it her practice never to look
“I met more than one lord, Benhu.”
Benhu felt like a veldt mouse frozen in the gaze of an Adda.
“Say his name,” Quinn said.
Poor as a beggar, and yet Titus Quinn was presuming to give orders. Benhu decided to overlook his tone for the sake of what the man had just been through.
“Say his name,” Quinn repeated.
“The gracious Lord Oventroe.” By a beku’s balls, Benhu thought. This pathetic man of the Rose, dripping with goo, daring to give orders, acting like a mighty legate when he was only a suppliant. Benhu stood up tall. “Fifty days I’ve waited in this stinking place, at my lord’s will and to your great advantage. Fifty days of dried food with vermin for company, and candles for daylight.
“The result being,” he went on, “you are here unscathed instead of burned or blown to pulp.” He couldn’t help but smirk. “You think you can cross without dying in the dark? Quite wrong. The only thing that saved you was that I drew you in.” He jerked his head at the crevice. “She almost died, too. Still might.”
Quinn looked at Benhu with an unnerving sideways glance.
“Yes, she lives, don’t worry. Burned, though.” He pointed at the figure lying in the shadows on the floor.
Lurching to his feet, Quinn strode to the woman’s side. He could surely see that Benhu had taken care of her: a blanket, and laid out comfortably. It was all he’d had time for, but the man seemed enraged.
Quinn stalked back to him and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “A bad mistake, Benhu. Send her back.”
Benhu was aghast. “Back? Send back? The lord said nothing about—”
Quinn yanked Benhu around to face the veil-of-worlds. “Put her in there and do what you do. Now.” Shoving Benhu away, Quinn rushed to the unconscious woman and began dragging her to the veil.
“No,” Benhu said, running to prevent him. “You can’t do that. Put her down.” He pulled on the woman’s arm, slapping at Quinn. A nasty blow sent Benhu sprawling as Quinn continued to haul the woman toward the veil.
Benhu crouched against the wall, rubbing his sore shoulder. “Go ahead and kill her then. I have no part in this.”
During the dragging, the blanket had come off the still-unconscious woman, and now Quinn saw her wounds. He paused, breathing heavily from his exertions and the stress of the crossing.
He whispered, “Why can’t you send her back?”
Benhu thought his dignity better served by standing up. He did so, rising to his full height, considerably less than Titus Quinn’s. “First, because in her condition, she wouldn’t survive a crossing. And second, because the gracious lord gave me no instructions as to the particulars of reverse passage. In other words, I don’t know how.”
Quinn fixed him with an awful stare. “Any more than a beku can pilot the Nigh?”
Benhu straightened his clothes. That was a foul thing to say. “I should have let you suffocate in that stinking jelly. Ever watch a man suffocate?”
“Yes.”
Indeed, Quinn looked like a man who didn’t care when or how he died. Those kind were the most dangerous. And though he would sooner have kissed a Gond, Benhu was now stuck with him. He put on his most superior demeanor. “I will await your apology outside.”
Quinn growled, “What am I supposed to do with her ?”
“I don’t know or care. She’s yours now.”
Benhu walked out of the chamber, eager to exit the chamber in case Quinn dispatched the unfortunate woman with his knife. Whoever she was, she appeared to be about as welcome as a horde of gnats on a beku’s arse.
CHAPTER SIX
O divine art of subtlety and secrecy! Through you we learn to be invisible, through you inaudible, and hence we can hold the enemy’s fate in our hands.
—from Tun Mu’s Annals of War
B EHIND JOHANNA LOOMED THE STORM WALL. She made it her practice never to look
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